Time to Heal
by jesse2212
Summary: Hermione Granger believed her life would change for the better after the war ended.  But when Ron can't seem to get over Fred's death, she heads to Hogwarts to help rebuild, on her own.  When she finds Draco Malfoy there, everything changes.
1. Chapter 1

Hermione Granger was depressed.

It seemed to fit the way her life had been going. At the age of 17, Hermione was forced to fight in a war. Well, maybe forced wasn't the right word. Hermione gladly stood by her best friend Harry Potter in his quest to defeat Lord Voldemort, but even without her ties to Harry she would have been fighting. Hermione Granger was a muggleborn witch who would have been wiped out by Voldemort's pureblood supremacy had he taken control, so she went to war.

Once the final battle had been fought and Harry claimed the victor, Hermione expected her life to become simpler, but then … Ron.

She had kissed Ron in the heat of the moment; it was do or die, now or never, and she loved him. Hermione had been in love with Ron for almost as long as she had known him, and to finally share that kiss had been nothing short of magical. Ron didn't seem to feel the same way, or at least, he couldn't come to terms with it.

In the days following the final battle, Ron couldn't seem to focus on anything other than the fact that his brother was dead. Fred gave his life at the Battle of Hogwarts and it seemed to have taken Ron some time to realize he was gone. Never again would he hear Fred call him Ickle-Ronniekins, or see Fred and George standing together in the corner laughing at a practical joke soon to be fulfilled.

Hermione tried to be there for him, tried to talk to him about it and help him cope, but he seemed to be withdrawing more and more as the days progressed. Harry had noticed the same trend and suggested that she give him some time. And so, Hermione waited, and Hermione got depressed.

Everyone seemed to have someone in whom to find comfort, except for her. Harry and Ginny were rarely seen out of each other's company and had even taken to sneaking into each other's rooms at night in The Burrow. The other Weasleys gravitated towards each other in their moment on need, coming together to support each other. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had reached out to Hermione, as well, making sure she was always comfortable, but she felt like more of a burden than anything; it was one thing for them to offer her a place to stay during their difficult time, it was another to take attention away from their hurting family for her sake.

Hermione missed her parents. She had planned to search them out immediately after the end of the war; however, shortly after Kingsley learned that she had erased their memories and sent them away to keep them safe, he offered to use the might of the Ministry to find them, return their memories, and bring them home to England. As grateful as she was, Hermione felt as though she might be happier searching for her parents; at least then she would have something to take her mind off of her seemingly constant pain.

She didn't want to seem needy; she was the only person currently residing at The Burrow who had not lost family to Voldemort. She didn't feel she had the right to be depressed; quite the contrary, she felt that she should be celebrating that her family had made it through certain danger unscathed, but she couldn't help it. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Tonks and Lupin, little Colin Creevey, Snape, and Fred. Every face and every memory taunted her. Every moment she spent alone added to the overwhelming weight of her grief.

Hermione had decided to go for a walk; some fresh air might clear her mind. Then she ran into the one Weasley who had avoided everyone at all costs: George. Poor George seemed just as he did every day ... lost. While everyone else grieved Fred together, George could barely look anyone in the eye, never mind hold a conversation; he didn't seem to know how to function without the other half of his heart.

"Hi, George." Hermione didn't expect a response, but she always made sure to say hello; when George was ready to talk, she would be willing to listen. Apparently, George was ready.

"Have they found your parents yet?" he said in a voice that sounded more like a croak due to misuse.

"Not yet, but Kingsley told me they're hopeful," Hermione responded, still slightly stunned that George had spoken at all. A wave of gratitude toward George overcame Hermione as she realized that he, the one who had lost the most of all the Weasleys, had been the first to enquire about her well being in weeks. Hermione didn't hold it against any of the family, they had done more than enough for her, but she still felt overwhelmed to see that he cared.

"You can't stay here forever, you know," George drawled, his voice beginning to even out. Hermione frowned; seeing the apprehension in her eyes George quickly made it clear that he was by no means tossing her out.

"You're drowing. I can see it, it was how I was when … when it first happened. Just lost and … alone." George's eyes seemed to slip out of focus as he relived the loss of his other half and his new status as a solo act.

When he spoke again, he seemed to find a new determination. "This place," George said, slowly surveying the kitchen of the Burrow with a wary eye. "It's not right anymore. It used to be warm, cozy. Now it just feels like a funeral home."

George suddenly turned towards her, smiling sadly. "You're not the same either, Hermione. You smile sometimes, but it never looks real."

Hermione was taken aback by George's keen observations. The Burrow had certainly lost some of its magic in the aftermath of the war, she assumed it had taken someone who did nothing but hide and think to finally put it into words and make it real. As for her smile, well, there wasn't much to smile about these days. They'd won a war, and still the casualties were too hard to call anyone a winner.

"I don't want to kick you out, don't get me wrong. You're family, you and Harry both. That's why I want you to leave, I care about you too much to sit back and watch this place sap the life out of you the way it has the rest of us."

Hermione sat silently attempting to process what George had just said. In a way, he was right. Everyone within the Burrow spent their days either sitting and talking about the war or whispering quietly to each other, judging who seemed to be the most lost. George was the easy choice, but Hermione knew more and more the whispers were heading her way. She, like George, seemed to be the only inhabitant of the Burrow without a confidant.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley comforted each other in the loss of their son, while Fleur and Bill, who had remained with the family since the battle, were often seen sitting together outside, finding comfort in the silence and each other. Ron, Percy, and Charlie might not have had a significant other, but they had their parents as constant companions. Without her own parents, Hermione suddenly felt completely alone in a full house.

Hermione needed an outlet. George seemed to have spent a good deal of his time holed up in his room working on his planned reopening of Weasleys' Wizards Wheezes, and it was time Hermione took her own step forward into the newly wide-open future. She loved Ron, and would attempt to make their relationship work as soon as he was ready, but it was time to put her own mental well being first. For once in her life, Hermione was going to be selfish.

Looking up, Hermione realized that in addition to his own store, George seemed to have spent some time thinking about her sanity. The spark his eyes used to hold so often when in Fred's company seemed to be making a slow return as he said one simple word.

"Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts?" Hermione asked, unsure what the school had to do with her decision to move forward.

"They need help there, you know," George replied. "Parts of the castle are completely destroyed. I know McGonagall wants the castle ready to reopen by September 1st but the Ministry isn't convinced it can happen, not enough volunteers."

George's eyes bore into Hermione's as she began to realize what he was suggesting. She loved Hogwarts more than any other place in the world, and to be able to help in its reconstruction would be perfect to take her mind off of everything. She supposed she could even talk McGonagall into letting her stay in the castle in the meantime. Not all of the dorms were affected by the battle, and she'd be a far more effective volunteer if she was in the castle 24/7.

But could she really leave? Could she say goodbye to the Burrow and its inhabitants, her family, in order to move on and attempt to heal?

Was she willing to run away to save her own life?


	2. Chapter 2

There were certain moments in Hermione's life that she knew she would never forget. The moment she received her Hogwarts letter and learned she was a witch was one of these moments, as well as the first time she saw Hogwarts castle from the boats on the lake.

Seeing Hogwarts for the first time since the war was another of those moments, for all the wrong reasons.

Hermione had seen the destruction of the castle the morning after the battle, but her grief and emotional turmoil had apparently made it a difficult scene to process. The castle, Hogwarts, her home, was nearly unrecognizable. The many towers that had held so many surprises and memories in what seemed like another time were now mere outcroppings of stone, the remains of their walls now strewn across the ground as rubble. The Quidditch pitch was nothing more than great piles of charred wood, and the windows whose glass had been blown out seemed to outnumber those that had been left intact. It would take a miracle for the castle to be prepared in time for the students' arrival in September.

Hermione had taken George's advice to move on from the Burrow in stride and had owled McGonagall almost immediately. The reply she received was enthusiastic and hopeful. McGonagall was delighted to hear the Hermione was interested in helping in the rebuilding process and immediately made sure there was a room set up and available to house her. "Who better to help produce a miracle than the brightest witch of her age?" she had written. At the time, Hermione had been flattered; now, she wasn't quite as sure of herself. She knew her spellwork was impressive, but could she really help rebuild this castle, a castle which had originally been built and enchanted by the four greatest wizards of all time?

Either way, Hermione knew that she was no help to anyone wallowing in self-pity at the Burrow. She announced her choice to move to Hogwarts over dinner one night and was surprised by the uproar it caused; it seemed as though, despite feeling invisible during her time in the house, the Weasley family found comfort in her presence there. However, her decision had been made and she would not be swayed.

Well, she might have been swayed. The entire day before making her announcement, Hermione worried over Ron's reaction. Would he be upset? Would he think she was abandoning him? Hermione knew that had Ron stood up at that very moment and said anything along the lines of, "I want you to stay here with me" she wouldn't have had the guts to say no to the man she loved. But Ron said nothing even remotely close to such a plea. He had simply nodded, mumbled a short, "Mkay" and continued eating his potatoes.

Hermione was devastated. At least Harry had asked why she was leaving and acted generally upset that one of his best friends was no longer going to be within the same house after living together for so long. Ron seemed no more interested than if Hermione had said she was going for a walk. Nothing made the decision to leave easier than Ron's nonchalance. It was time to move on, with or without her heart.

As Hermione approached the castle from the winged boar topped gates, she noticed that considerable work had already been done on the castle. Certain sections of rock were clearly less worn than the surviving stone of the castle and she could feel the tingling of new, strong magic nearby. Whole sections of the castle that had once, she assumed, looked as haggard as the rest now looked fresh and perfect, as though they had never been touched. Hermione was suddenly struck by an overwhelming desire to make sure Hogwarts returned to its former grandeur by September; if not for her than for the first years who deserved a first glimpse at Hogwarts in all of its glory.

Finding her way to McGonagall's office was easier said than done. McGonagall's letter had detailed the best way to get to the headmaster's office through pathways and stairwells that had already been renovated. The halls were lined with the usual statues and suits of armor, though there seemed to be significantly less than before, and those that had survived the battle showed plenty of bumps and scrapes from their valiant efforts to protect the castle. Most of the paintings had been restored to their former places, though their inhabitants didn't seem to have returned yet, leaving the corridor with a strange, empty feeling. It was odd to see the once vibrant castle so quiet, although the lack of hundreds of students might have explained it.

When Hermione reached the gargoyle guarding the headmaster's office she spoke the password ("phoenix feather") and stepped onto the revolving staircase after the guard had leapt out of the way.

Oddly enough, Hermione found herself getting nervous as she got closer to the waiting door. She hadn't seen McGonagall since after the final battle, and was unsure how she was holding up under the strain of rebuilding the school almost from scratch.

When she reached the door, she gently tapped the knocker and waited as she heard footsteps approaching. What she had been expecting was an austere McGonagall, ready to get down to business and return to normalcy. What she wasn't expecting was an excited shout and hug.

"Ms. Granger!" McGonagall exclaimed. "It's so great to see you."

Hermione was stunned. Usually Professor McGonagall was so reserved, withholding such emotional outbursts. She supposed that after seeing many of her students injured and killed in the battle, McGonagall was happy to see her healthy and ready to help.

"It's good to see you too, professor," Hermione said. "Thank you so much for letting me stay here, you have no idea what this means to me."

"Of course, it's not problem at all, Ms. Granger. It was very gracious of you to volunteer. As I'm sure you can see, we need all the help we can get." McGonagall looked just as sad as Hermione had felt when she first saw the castle in shambles. It seemed she realized what a difficult task it was going to be getting Hogwarts ready in time for the new school year.

"There's a lot of work to be done, I know," Hermione said, hoping her words could help convince her former, and favorite, professor. "But I know we can get it ready in time. If I have to work day and night, I'll make sure of it."

Hermione was unsure if she had said the right thing, but all doubt flew from her mind when she saw McGonagall beaming at her with pride.

"Well, then," McGonagall said, clearly attempting to hide the emotion in her voice. "As it's getting late I'm sure you would like to see your quarters and get settled in. I set you up in the quarters attached to my former office for the time being, hopefully that will suffice."

It was Hermione's turn to beam up at McGonagall as she realized she would be sleeping right next to Gryffindor tower, her home for so many years. "That's perfect, professor. Thank you."

As she followed Professor McGonagall through the repaired portions of the castle, Hermione found a peace within herself that had felt so unattainable just a few days ago. The castle had a long way to go, and she had no idea how she was going to be able to help in the work, but at that moment none of that mattered. She was back at Hogwarts and by the next morning she would be putting her time to some actual use for what felt like the first time in ages.

Hermione was happy to finally be home.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day was a blur.

Hermione had expected to sleep until at least 9 a.m. before heading out for breakfast, which McGonagall had mentioned would take place in the newly repaired Great Hall for those staying at the school. However, at the crack of dawn Hermione was awakened by a loud banging that was unmistakably the sound of heavy labor at work.

As Hermione dressed for her first day at work at Hogwarts, she wondered who could possibly be working so early. That she knew of, all the workers who were living within the castle would be meeting for breakfast before forming crews and heading out. She made a mental note to ask about being put on whatever crew got to work so early.

If there was anything Hermione needed less of, it was time to sleep. She felt like sleeping was all she had done for weeks at the Burrow, and it was time to get back to business. Also, there was the little problem of nightmares. Fighting a war at such a young age rarely leaves one with many happy dreams.

She began the long walk down to the Great Hall pondering what she might be doing for the day. She was hoping to be able to do some complex spell work, as she felt she was getting rusty after such a long period of inactivity. She was running through which spells might help when she walked right into a solid body.

"Oh, I'm so sor-Neville?" Hermione felt as though the fog that had been clouding her mind for so long was lifted at the sight of her fellow Gryffindor.

"Hermione?" Neville cried, grabbing her and pulling her into a tight hug. "I didn't know you were here!"

"I just came in last night," Hermione said, feeling as though working at Hogwarts was going to be so much easier now that she had found a familiar face. "Have you been here long?"

"A few weeks now. Professor Sprout owled me after she realized how much damage the greenhouses took in the battle," Neville said. "A lot of the greenery needed treatment and replanting and she knew I could help." Neville's face was shining with pride as he relayed this information to Hermione, and she couldn't help the wave of affection she felt for her formerly clumsy friend. After his bravery in the final battle, Neville was faced with quite a bit of positive attention, but never really figured out how to deal with it. Hermione felt as though Professor Sprout's acknowledgment was simultaneously something he was used to, and the most important of all of the attention.

"What are you doing here, though? Shouldn't you be at the Burrow with everyone?" Neville asked, not realizing how sensitive the subject was.

"I think I just needed a change of scenery," Hermione said, and Neville seemed to understand that the topic was closed for conversation.

"Well," Neville started, getting some of his excitement back, "you'll love it here. There's a lot to be done but seeing how much everything has progressed is amazing. We're going to have the school ready for the news students, I can just feel it."

Hermione couldn't help but adopt some of Neville's enthusiasm and continued her walk down to the Great Hall with a new pep in her step. She wasn't running away from a problem, she was joining in the movement to return Hogwarts to its rightful prestige.

It was only when they had reached the entrance hall and she could hear more of the early morning work being done, that Hermione remembered her confusion from that morning.

"Neville why are there already people at work? Professor McGonagall said everyone would be meeting for breakfast before heading out."

Neville seemed to grimace before he began. "Those are the … er … other workers. We don't really deal with them."

"Other workers?" Hermione asked, confused by Neville's harsh tone. "What do you mean? I thought all of the workers were faculty or volunteers?"

"That was how it was at first," Neville said as he led her into the bustling Great Hall, "But when McGonagall realized we wouldn't be able to get all the work done in time on our own she asked the Ministry if they had any ideas." Neville seemed to be getting more and more wary of telling the story, as though the "other workers" were a dirty secret no one should know about.

"So, are they Ministry workers?" Hermione asked, more and more curious.

Neville seemed to avoid Hermione's eye when he replied, "Kind of … Hey look! It's Luna!"

Hermione's immediately forgot about the mysterious Ministry workers in her excitement to see another old school friend in the Great Hall. It seemed more people had come back to help than she could have hoped.

"Luna! Neville you didn't tell me Luna was here, too! It's so great to see you!" Hermione cried as she reached out to hug Luna. Hermione had not been overtly fond of Luna when they first met, but after living through a war with someone, you tend to bond, no matter how different your beliefs may be.

"Father and I needed a place to stay while our house is being repaired, so we figured we could do some good here," Luna leaned in and lowered her voice before adding, "Make sure no nargles get inside the walls."

Hermione felt slightly ashamed in knowing the part she had played in the destruction of the Lovegood house; but to be fair, she had warned Xenophilius that the Erumpet Horn was dangerous, and last she had heard Kingsley was having their home repaired for them as a reward for their efforts in the war. Hermione was happy for them. No matter how close Luna's father had come to turning Harry, Ron, and her over to the Death Eaters, she understood a father's love for his daughter would always be the priority.

Hermione walked into the Great Hall with Neville and Luna where she was surprised to see that nearly everything was intact. The shattered windows had been replaced, the various burns and hex marks that had covered the walls were cleared, and the long house and head tables had been replaced and were currently being utilized by a surprising amount of volunteers.

It made sense that the Great Hall would have been one of the first to be repaired, but the amount of work that had been done in such a short period of time was quite astounding. Even the ceiling was once again enchanted to look like the sky outside, now the clear, pale blue of early morning. Hermione couldn't help but smile; what a perfect choice it had been to come to Hogwarts. She reminded herself to buy George an incredible Christmas present.

The majority of those in the Hall seemed to be sitting together at the end of the Hufflepuff table, so Hermione, Neville, and Luna joined them. Hermione was excited to see a few more familiar faces among the workers, including Oliver Wood, who she had heard had taken the destruction of the Quidditch Pitch as a personal insult, and Hannah Abbott, who was shooting some interesting glances in Neville's direction.

Looking away from Neville's blushing face, Hermione focused on the spread before her in amazement; it seemed the house elves had returned to outdoing themselves in the kitchens. She decided she would try to make the time to visit the kitchens later to make sure the standards were still high. Thoughts of the kitchens brought on thoughts of Dobby, making Hermione's eyes begin to sting.

Turning away from her fellow diners, she gazed up at the head table where all the teachers were talking among themselves. McGonagall sat at the center of the table surrounded by tiny Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout, all three of whom seemed deep in conversation. Madam Pomfrey was digging into her eggs in her rush to get back to the Hospital Wing which, considering the heavy construction and rampant magic, was probably just as busy as always. Professor Slughorn was covering his entire plate, which resembled a small mountain of breakfast foods, in syrup while Professor Vector looked on in disgust. Hermione felt like she hadn't smiled so much in years; it felt good to be back home.

Hermione was broken from her people-watching by a resounding crash from outside. Everyone in the hall seemed to jump up with their wands at the ready within seconds, a byproduct of living in a time of war. As McGonagall bolted from the hall, Hermione was right on her tail, prepared to do whatever was necessary to protect the castle once again.

So many scenarios were running through her mind. Had rogue death eaters come back to attack? Were the creatures of the Forbidden Forrest rioting? What else could possibly go wrong?

Hermione was through and out of the Entrance Hall faster than she thought possible and was greeted by a sight she had not expected. There was Hagrid, running toward them waving his arms in the air like a madman as a group of workers stood a few hundred yards away. Hermione couldn't quite make out any of their identities at such a distance, all she could really see was a long rope that they were all holding, but she assumed these were the other workers Neville had referenced.

"Hi, Hermione!" Hagrid shouted after spotting her in the growing crowd outside the front doors. It probably wasn't the best choice for Hagrid to take the time to greet her considering the glare McGonagall was sending his way.

"Hagrid!" McGonagall shrieked, flustered and furious. "What is the meaning of this? It sounded like an explosion, what on earth is going on!"

Hagrid seemed embarrassed by his oversight and glanced around at the crowd.

"Sorry there, everyone," he said pointing towards what seemed to be a pile of rubble by the workers. "Bit o' a mix up with the spells, I 'spect. Tryin' to move too many things at once."

McGonagall seemed to take her first breath in minutes, though she still glanced warily toward the workers in the distance.

"So there haven't been any … er … problems? With them?" Hermione thought it an odd question for McGonagall to ask. All the workers were volunteers; why would they choose to work at Hogwarts just to cause mayhem?

"No, no! Not at all. Hard workin' bunch. Doin' good work, jus' like I told yeh." Hagrid seemed proud that these men were working hard under his watch, adding to Hermione's suspicions that something odd was going on.

"Okay, then," McGonagall said, turning to the gathered crowd outside the doors of the castle. "Back to breakfast everyone, nothing to see here." The crowd began filing back inside but Hermione was far too interested in what was going on outside to follow. Not to mention she'd barely seen Hagrid is weeks.

"Are you coming, Hermione?" Neville called over the heads of the retreating crowd.

"I'll be right in," Hermione repied, though she had no intention of returning before she answered a few questions.

"Hagrid!" Hermione shouted at his enormous retreating back. Hagrid turned and gave her an enormous smile before taking her into a bone crunching hug.

"'s good ter see yeh,' Hermione!" Hagrid said, letting go and allowing Hermione to breathe. "Yer migh' wanna head back inside, now. Don' wanna get too close ter this lot."

Hermione looked around Hagrid, now getting her closest look yet at the workers and was met only with more confusion. The workers were all standing in one spot, still holding to the same rope she had seen before, but they had yet to begin working again. It seemed they were all waiting on Hagrid's word to resume and she felt some of their eyes on her, as well.

"Who are they Hagrid?" Hermione asked starting to feel uncomfortable with all the stares.

"Workers from the Ministry," Hagrid said, though he didn't seem comfortable talking about them, waving his enormous hand in the air as though to say such a topic was nothing to discuss.

"Why aren't they inside with the rest of us? And they started so early, surely they need breakfast." Hermione was getting a really bad feeling about these other workers. Why was everyone so nervous about them?

"The Ministry takes care 'o 'em I 'spect," Hagrid said. "We jus put 'em ter work, 'n send 'em back later."

That was it. Hermione did not know much about the work situation at Hogwarts and hearing about these other workers was driving her crazy. From what she had learned so far, these workers started at ridiculous hours in the morning, didn't get to eat breakfast with everyone else despite the fact that there was plenty of food to feed an army, and weren't even allowed to stay in the castle. It was unfair and inhumane to treat these people any differently than the other workers. As she got closer, however, the situation became clear.

She began to recognize faces she never thought she would see again, and realized why these other workers were ostracized and feared. They were not holding a rope, but were tied together by chains the sounds of which became clearer as she neared. These were not ministry workers, these were prisoners, put to work in a chain gang. Hermione felt like she couldn't breathe.

The worst part, however, was not the chains, or the leering grins she was receiving from some of the men; it was one emaciated face she had last seen in the Great Hall after Voldemort's death, being dragged away from his parents by Aurors. It was the once perfectly groomed blond hair that was now shaggy and greasy, hanging into steel grey eyes that were pointed in her general direction, but did not seem to see. The worst part was seeing Draco Malfoy, a member of a chain gang, paying for the sins of his family, staring without seeing. It was seeing that Draco Malfoy was broken.


	4. Chapter 4

"Hermione … Hermione?" Hagrid was still trying to get her attention, but she could barely tear her eyes away from what she was seeing. Following her line of sight, Hagrid saw the stares of the men and assumed she was simply uncomfortable with their gazes.

"Back ter work, you lot, nothin' ter see here!" With a mutinous grumble, the workers turned to continue their work. Malfoy's gaze lingered just a few seconds longer before he too turned and walked away, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"Hagrid, who are these people? What's happening here?" Hermione mentally pleaded for Hagrid to tell her something other than what she suspected.

"They're workers o' course. Ministry sent 'em ter help get Hogwarts ready in time fer the new students … Hermione? Where yeh goin' now?"

"I'll see you later, Hagrid," Hermione shouted behind her as she sprinted back towards the school. She had to talk to McGonagall or Kingsley about this. It wasn't right to put people to work against their will. If she couldn't get wizards to stop treating house elves in such a way, she at least hoped they would treat their fellow human beings with more respect than slavery.

Reaching the Great Hall, Hermione marched right up to McGonagall and did the one thing she never in her life expected to do: She yelled at a teacher.

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?" Hermione shouted, unable to get the image of the shackled prisoners and Malfoy's dead look out of her head. Professor McGonagall didn't seem to know how to react to her once star pupil's rage.

"PRISON LABOR? FORCED WORKERS? HOW CAN … WHAT … WHY?" Hermione had reached a point at which words seemed to have lost all meaning. She was seeing red. Unfortunately, her rage seemed to have had the same effect on her former professor. McGonagall had lived through a war, the deaths of colleagues, even being attacked herself; she certainly wouldn't be put down by a girl not even a quarter her age.

"Ms. Granger, I don't know what you think you're doing, but I will not be talked to in such a way in this castle," McGonagall's tone immediately deflated Hermione's ire, making her realize how foolish it had been to run into the Great Hall in a rage. She was usually such a logical person, she should have known screaming at the Headmistress would be a bad choice.

"Now, if you will meet me in my office, we can talk about your concerns in private." McGonagall swept from the room faster than Hermione could summon up an apology, and she was left standing before the stares of her fellow workers, ashamed of her actions.

As she turned around slowly to look out on the people who had watched her outburst, she realized Neville was walking towards her. He was walking cautiously, as though he expected her to explode and begin shouting again. The fear in Neville's face as he approached made Hermione feel even worse.

"Are you okay, Hermione?" Neville asked, still speaking to Hermione as though she was due to start screaming soon. She took a deep breath, calming herself, before she began.

"I'm okay, Neville, I just-," she realized then she didn't really know how to word her feelings. She had come to Hogwarts hoping to bury herself in labor, to allow herself to forget the pain the people who died. Seeing the faces of the prisoners, seeing Malfoy's face mostly, had just been too much of a reminder that such a terrible thing had happened, and many people were still paying an unfair price.

"I need to go talk to Professor McGonagall," Hermione blurted out before quickly sweeping past Neville and rushing out of the Great Hall. She could feel the stares on her back as she moved, could hear the whispers as people wondered what had happened to make the golden girl of Gryffindor explode on a teacher she greatly respected. She needed to get out of the room fast.

Before she knew it, she was facing the stone gargoyle before the entrance to the headmistress's office with very little memory of how she had arrived there. She had been far too preoccupied thinking of the clashing of chains and blank grey eyes.

After giving the password to the gargoyle and riding the rotating stairs up to the office door, Hermione knocked quietly. She suddenly found herself very afraid to face Professor McGonagall following such an inappropriate outburst, but steeled herself knowing she had had good reason. The shock she had felt at the sight of the prisoners returned and she prepared herself for a battle. If she couldn't liberate House Elves, she would at least fight for the rights of her fellow witches and wizards.

"Enter," she heard a weary voice respond, and Hermione was surprised to recognize the defeat in McGonagall's voice. She opened the door to find the headmistress sitting behind her desk with her head in her hands, clearly upset.

"Professor?" Hermione questioned. She had never in her life seen McGonagall so downtrodden and it was very disturbing.

"Professor, I'm so sorry I yelled at you like that, it was totally unprofessional and disrespectful, I know, it's just that ..."

"I know why you are so upset Ms. Granger," McGonagall interrupted, finally lifting her head from her hands. She looked as though she had aged a decade in the walk from the Great Hall to her office.

"I had the exact same reaction the first day I learned of the Ministry's plans, and I'll tell you what they told me: Hogwarts will not be able to reopen for the new school year without significant additions to the rebuilding team." McGonagall rose from her chair and began pacing behind her desk.

"I hate that this is what we have been left with, no options other than prison workers, but there just aren't enough volunteers and the school must be ready to open in September, it must!"

Hermione struggled to come up with an argument against such an impassioned plea, but was interrupted in replying by the roar of the fire to her left as Kingsley emerged from the floo. He, however, didn't seem to notice the tension in the room.

"Hermione! How great to see you! I've been meaning to talk to you, we've got some really good leads on the whereabouts of your parents, and we're pretty sure we'll have them back by Christmas," Kingsley said, his smile slowly fading as he looked at the two occupants of the room. Hermione was fighting a battle between fury and happiness and McGonagall was still pacing.

"What?" Kingsley asked, staring between the two. "I … I thought this was good news."

Hermione sat down before McGonagall's desk attempting to quell the joy she felt at the news about her parents in order to remain focused on the task at hand: Reaming the Minister of Magic for allowing slavery to be used at Hogwarts.

"Kingsley, with all due respect," Hermione began, hoping to prevent another unintelligible outburst, "I don't want to hear about anything other than your choice to use chain gangs in the rebuilding of Hogwarts."

"Ah," said Kingsley, understanding at once the anger in the room. "Yes, that."

"That's all you have to say?" Hermione burst. "'Yes, that'? This is slavery Kingsley! How can you allow this?"

Kingsley took a deep breath before beginning.

"Hermione, what you have to understand is that, in some cases, this is for the best. These prisoners are getting fresh air and exercise, never mind being allowed to leave Azkaban for a few hours, you have no idea how much they enjoy it!"

"How much they enjoy it?" Hermione could barely believe her ears. "How could they possibly enjoy being put to work like … like … like …"

"Like house elves?" Kingsley asked with a knowing look on his face.

"Yes! Like house elves!" Hermione yelled, furious that Kingsley seemed to have expected her argument. "It's inhumane! It's wrong and I won't stand for it! You know just as well as anyone how much sway my name has with the wizarding world because of the war and I will put a stop to this!" She hated that it had come to this; that she was threatening the Minister of Magic with the awkward amount of attention and importance given to her following the war, but she didn't know what else to do. She had to stand up for herself and those people.

"Hermione, I understand your anger, I do," Kingsley said in a gentle voice attempting to calm the irate girl standing before him. "But these are people who otherwise would be spending everyday in their cells in Azkaban. Even without the dementors, it's not exactly a nice place to spend one's time. Instead they are getting outside, working hard; they may be in chains, but this is the most freedom they experience. Trust me when I say, they enjoy it, they do!" He continued when Hermione scoffed.

"In addition, they are improving the community in the rebuilding of the school. Hogwarts will open on time because of these people! Even you must see all of the positives in this program."

Hermione sat in silence watching as McGonagall finally stopped pacing and took her seat behind her desk. She couldn't lie, Kingsley had made a good argument for the prison workers, but something in the back of her mind still wouldn't allow her let it go. It was then that she once again thought of empty, grey eyes.

"Malfoy," she said, surprising both Kingsley and McGonagall after such a long period of silence. "Why is Malfoy here? Harry and I both testified for the Malfoy family with the understanding that they would be given a reduced sentence for not fighting in the final battle. Why, then, is he here?"

"What you must understand, Hermione, is that Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater. A reduced sentence for a lifetime in Azkaban is still going to include quite a bit of time in prison."

"But he wasn't a Death Eater! He was an indoctrinated child!" Hermione had no idea when she had become so worried about the well being of Draco Malfoy, but she assumed seeing him out on the grounds, staring at her as though he knew nothing of her or their past had led her here. He looked as though he had no will left to fight, so she would fight for him.

"Ms. Granger," McGonagall said startling Hermione as she had almost forgotten her former professor was in the room. "We understand the situation with Draco Malfoy, but not only does he have the Dark Mark, he played a part in the murder of Dumbledore."

"BUT HE COULDN'T-"

"We know he couldn't kill him, but he let Death Eaters into the castle and that cannot be forgotten," McGonagall was now staring at Hermione with something akin to pity as she realized her student would not win the argument she seemed so passionate about.

"You know I would not allow a man to be unlawfully imprisoned, Hermione," Kingsley said calmly, "But in the case of Draco Malfoy, we did not have a choice. He assisted in the murder of the headmaster, and while his sentence was reduced, he still must be held accountable. I'm sorry."

Nothing could have calmed Hermione quite like the tone Kingsley was using while talking to her, as though someone close to her had died and he had to break the news. She realized then that her argument was hopeless; the prisoners were going to remain working at Hogwarts and she was just going to have to make peace with that. However, if she was going to accept the chain gangs, she was going to do so with her own rules.

"I want to work with them," Hermione said quickly, daring one of the two adults to contradict her. "Hagrid was supervising them today, but I would like to take over."

Kingsley sighed and shook his head, "Hermione, just because they are working here doesn't mean these prisoners aren't dangerous … "

"Which is why they are being kept in chains, right?" Hermione asked. "They do manual labor, and they can't escape. As long as I have my wand I assure you there will be no danger at all."

"Hermione-" Kingsley began, but Hermione would not be told "no" again.

"If I'm going to stay here and work, and it seems obvious my help is needed, I will work overseeing the prisoners. At least then I'll know they aren't being mistreated."

Kingsley and McGonagall exchanged exasperated looks, but seemed to realize Hermione was not asking their permission. They both nodded and before they could change their minds or challenge her again, Hermione was out the door and on her way down to the grounds to begin her first day with the prisoners. She couldn't help but hope that she got a chance to talk to Malfoy during the day, if only to find out what had broken him so thoroughly.


	5. Chapter 5

Hey, guys! I realized I forgot to put a disclaimer on my story so far (this is my first time publishing on this site so I didn't really know what I was doing) so here goes: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters/settings/etc. Those belong to my queen and ruler J.K. Rowling who I worship as a deity.

That being said, thank you guys for reviewing and reading! It's really making writing this more fun!

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><p>Hermione had expected many things when it came to working with the prisoners. She had expected taunting and jeers, dirty looks, maybe even some whispered "mudbloods" from those who believed her too distant or distracted to hear. What she had not expected was silence.<p>

After she had reached the grounds, she had spoken quickly with Hagrid about her new position, hoping that he would return to the school to assist there. Hagrid, however, would not leave her unattended with the prisoners.

"Ya don' know wha' they're capable of, Hermione," Hagrid had argued when Hermione asked to be left to deal with the prisoners herself.

"Hagrid," Hermione began, trying not to sound as though she was talking to a stubborn toddler. "There are wards to preventing them from doing anything other than their jobs. I have my wand, I can handle them!"

"But Mione, there are nearly 40 o' 'em and only one o' you! There's too many jus' you ter handle!"

Hermione was seeing red. How dare Hagrid act as though she couldn't keep watch over the prisoners by herself, as though he had not been doing exactly the same thing. Sure Hagrid was slightly larger than Hermione, but unlike Hagrid, Hermione came armed with a wand with which she could do magic Hagrid couldn't even imagine. She was outnumbered, that was obvious, but who better to take on a large group of prisoners than the brightest witch of her age? No, this simply wouldn't do. For the second time that day, it was time to take a stand.

"Hagrid, I understand you're worried, but I've already cleared this with Professor McGonagall and Kingsley. I'm taking over the job of supervising the prisoners and if you would like to fight that, you're going to have to take it up with the minister." Hermione looked up at Hagrid's massive face with the sternest look she could possibly muster. She wanted, in one look, to make it clear that she was not to be swayed.

Hagrid seemed to shift uncomfortably under her gaze, looking between her and the prisoners who seemed to have come to a halt in their work, watching the incredible interaction between the giant man and the tiny woman. It wasn't often that you saw a half-giant quake under the gaze of an 17-year old girl.

"'Spose I'll jus' check up on yeh in a few then," Hagrid said, admitting defeat before Hermione could really get riled up. "Jus'…jus be careful, Mione, an' if yeh need help, send a patronus or summat an' I'll be here, alrigh'?

Hermione nodded quickly, unable to vocalize her thanks due to her sudden guilt at having been so strict with Hagrid; he was only trying to look out her.

As Hagrid began his trek back to the castle, Hermione turned to face the prisoners who had still yet to return to their work and quickly wiped the guilt from her face, once again taking on the visage of stern determination.

"Well then," she started, hoping that she sounded more confident than she felt at the moment, "back to work, all of you."

With a grumble, the prisoners turned back to the work they had been doing previous to the morning's interruptions. As Hermione walked around the perimeter of the workers, she noticed that for the most part, all the prisoners were working to clear away the rubble which had fallen from the west tower. She couldn't help but recognize some of their faces as her former classmates at Hogwarts; Adrian Pucey was lumbering beneath a boulder that he seemed barely able to hold up on his own, Marcus Flint was kicking smaller stones out of the way of a larger one that appeared so large it had to be rolled away, and Goyle was tossing wood into a huge pile near the forest. She found herself searching out Malfoy's face within the group, but assumed that he was on the other end of the chain as she could not locate his pointed face or platinum hair anywhere nearby. As she circled the group, she came upon a sight that nearly paralyzed her with fear, on the outer perimeter of the gang, closest to the school, nearly half a dozen of the prisoners held wands.

As she stepped back in horror, she bumped into another of the prisoners, causing her to jump and scream. Maybe she should have let Hagrid stay with her.

"Whoa, calm down there, Granger," said a familiar voice behind her. Hermione turned to face the prisoner she had bumped into and found herself face to face with yet another Slytherin who she recognized as Theodore Nott. He was as tall and thin as he had been in school, but not quite as lanky, probably thanks to the work he had been doing as part of the chain gang. As he pushed his dark hair away from his face, she met his warm brown eyes which watched her good-naturedly. Hermione had rarely had the opportunity to interact with Theo Nott during their time at school, but had generally assumed him to be just as bad as the rest of the Slytherins. However, as she faced him now, he standing in chains and holding a wand loosly in his hand, he did not sneer or taunt her, but gave her a light smile. Hermione felt as though she must be hallucinating.

"Who did you take those from?" she shot at Theo before he could say another word. She seemed unable to tear her eyes away from the wand in his hand, though he simply laughed at the clear accusation.

"Don't laugh at me!" Hermione shrieked; she had not spent all morning fighting her way through Hogwarts and the Ministry to be patronized by a man stuck in chains. No matter how angry she might have sounded, it didn't seem to remove the good natured smile from Theo Nott's face and that confused her more than anything she had encountered since returning to the school.

"I assume that in your rush to take over as our warden, you forgot to ask what exactly it is we're doing out here," Theo said, and Hermione couldn't help but feel embarrassed. She had assumed that manual labor had been the limit for the prisoners, but from what she could see, those that were holding wands were doing nothing more than levitating the largest of the rubble away from the castle.

"I know what you're doing," Hermione snapped back, not wanting to lose her footing as the person in charge. "It's removing rubble, as simple as that. What I don't know is why you and a handful of your friends are being trusted with wands."

Theo once again let out a light laugh, and despite herself, Hermione couldn't remain angry with the one person on the chain gang who seemed to have no problem talking to her. As it was, the other prisoners were shooting Theo dirty looks for having what was obviously a friendly conversation with their "warden."

"Granger, calm down. We were given these by the ministry workers who check us in and out of the prison every day," Theo said, pointing out the few other workers who also held wands. "There are only a few of us, the ones the guards have deemed the 'best behaved,' but there's no need to worry your bushy little head, they're restricted wands."

"Restricted wands?" Hermione asked. She hated to once again admit that she didn't understand what was happening, but she had never heard the term and figured that as long as one of the prisoners was willing to inform her, she wouldn't have to admit defeat to any of the people whom she had assured she could handle this job alone.

Theo raised the wand to hand to Hermione, the chains bound to his arms clinking as he did so. It was this distinct reminder that he was a prisoner and not a friend that had Hermione once again raising her guard. As she reached out to take the wand for examination she kept a wary eye on him, preparing herself for any attack he might be planning under the guise of friendliness.

"I know it probably doesn't mean much to you, Granger, but I have no intention of hexing you; not that I could if I wanted to," Theo said as he watched Hermione examine the wand. It was a rather basic wand, no fancy designs or signs of longtime use, and Hermione found herself incredibly curious as to its properties. She attempted to procure her famed Bluebell Flames with the wand, but found herself unable to perform the charm. She had not realized she was frowning at the wand until Theo once again let out a short laugh.

"Don't worry, Granger, you aren't losing your touch," Theo said, "The wands were made special by Ollivander for us. They're made to only be able to levitate objects; we were given them when the ministry realized that we were basically useless as workers unless we could clear out the big stuff. There have been whole walls we've had to move and no amount of people could have moved them without magic."

Hermione gazed back towards the wand-holding prisoners and saw that what Theo said rang true; those carrying wands were using them for the sole purpose of removing the largest pieces of rubble from the area. She found herself impressed; it was quite a clever idea.

Hermione looked back down at Theo's wand, examining it until he gave a little cough which reminded her where she was. She saw that the prisoners were shooting Theo even deadlier glares now than they had before. She had been about to reprimand them and demand they get back to work when Theo interrupted her thoughts. "Do you mind if I take my wand back now, warden? I think my friends here are a little disgruntled that I'm getting a break."

"Oh, yes, sorry," Hermione mumbled handing the wand back to Theo, who turned to continue his work, his chains jingling as he moved away from her.

As Hermione continued to wander around the workers, she noticed the height of the sun in the sky and realized that it must be near noontime already. She had spent a good amount of the morning finding her footing at Hogwarts, but now it felt as though things might settle down.

She walked by the workers carrying wands and recognized another among them as Blaise Zabini and found it odd that he should be there. That she knew of, Blaise had tried to remain neutral in the war. She made a mental note to ask McGonagall about his crimes when she had a chance. As she rounded the large pile of rubble to which everyone seemed to be depositing the debris, she finally saw the face she had been curious about all morning.

Malfoy was not among those chosen to carry a wand, though Hermione could understand the decision; of the classmates she had recognized among the workers so far, none of them had played such a large role in the war as Draco Malfoy. He appeared to not even notice her watching him, as he was far too intent on digging out a piece of the wall that had embedded itself in the ground.

He looked no better than he had the first time Hermione had laid eyes on him; he had always been slim, although previously he had carried some muscle, she assumed from Quidditch training. Now he was nearly skin and bone. It looked as though he hadn't had a good meal in weeks, although she doubted that had anything to do with Azkaban, as the other prisoners seemed well taken care of. His platinum blonde hair was longer than usual, falling into his eyes as he worked. Despite the rest of his ragged visage, it was his eyes that made Hermione worry for her arch-nemesis' mental health. The deep grey of his eyes, usually filled with mirth and arrogance when Hermione had seen them, was completely empty. Despite facing in the direction of the boulder he was attempting to remove, it seemed as though he looked without seeing. As he moved to the other side of the boulder, Hermione got a better look at his face and saw he had bags under his eyes that she had only ever seen in those who had gone weeks without a good night sleep, like Harry, Ron, and she had during their time searching for horcruxes.

Hermione spent a good amount of time staring at Malfoy as he worked silently and alone, the only sound accompanying his work the click of the chains connecting him to the other prisoners who seemed fine ignoring him completely. It wasn't until Neville came jogging down the lawn 15 minutes later to tell her it was lunch time that she finally snapped out of her reverie.

The prisoners had established a routine when it came to lunch, as they all immediately dropped their work and moved, as a group, to the shade of the trees near the Forbidden Forest. As Hermione took a seat under her own tree a few yards away from the prisoners, house elves began apparating to the location and handing out sandwiches and bottles of pumpkin juice.

Hermione had been about to ask Neville, who had chosen to join her for lunch, about the conditions under which the house elves were working when she felt a pair of eyes on the back of her neck. She turned slowly, trying not to alert Neville to her plight, and immediately located the source of her uneasiness. Malfoy was sitting a short distance from her, himself distanced from the other workers, and he was staring directly at her. Hermione gasped when her eyes met his as she saw that he was finally showing some emotion; Malfoy was staring at her, and he looked furious.

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><p>Dun, dun, dun! So, there you go! Sorry this chapter took so long, I'm in the middle of switching jobs and that was ridiculously time consuming. And for those of you worried about a lack of Draco in the story so far, no worries! From here on out Draco is going to be plenty present, it just took a while because I wanted to establish things first.<p>

Thanks for reading and reviews would make me smile!


	6. Chapter 6

Hi, guys! Sorry this chapter took a while, we just went through the busiest season we have all year where I work so it was a bit hectic, but I'll definitely update more regularly now that my schedule is back on track. Enjoy!

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><p>Draco Malfoy was furious.<p>

And while his blood was boiling and he was gripping the stone he had just hauled out of the soil so tightly his fingers were turning white, he knew he deserved his fate.

He deserved to end up on the wrong side. He deserved to watch as Potter and his merry gang of victors screamed and jumped and fist pumped their long-fought victory while his family cowered in the shadows, hoping not to be noticed. He deserved to eventually find himself under the distrustful stare of interim Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebot before being led away in shackles, his mother's cries that he was just a boy taunting him as he went to meet his fate. He deserved the angry beams that were shot at him from the eyes of every bystander as he was led to a courtroom in which he would learn whether his life was over at 17. And now, months later, after battling more demons and getting more mercy than he earned or wanted, he deserved to have to work for her.

The last time he had laid eyes on Granger, she had been sitting before the Wizengamot reciting all the reasons she believed he should get a reduced sentence for his crimes. Her main point had been that it was simply not logical to punish the son for the father's mistakes. He could barely keep himself from laughing at the time. She had spoken as though, in all the time he spent as a branded Death Eater fixing a vanishing cabinet to assist in the murder of an innocent man, he had had no choice. But Draco had faced many choices in his, so far, very short life, and it felt to him as though every single one of them was wrong.

The most prominent of his wrong choices pertained to the very same witch he was now watching, as she slowly surveyed the prisoners she had taken over the duty of overseeing. In his time as a Death Eater he had watched unspeakable acts being performed, things that plagued his dreams and would pop up every so often in his mind during the day just to make sure he would never forget. He had seen beatings and tortures and murders galore, but he experienced them through a fog. In his dreams, the faces of those he had watched suffer would blur to the point where he could almost forget their identities, almost forget that he had watched their life end. But nothing he had experienced could possibly compare to what happened to her.

Maybe it was just because he had seen her almost every day for 6 years at Hogwarts, but Granger's face never blurred. When Draco dreamed of what had happened to her in his house, at the hands of his aunt, while he watched, Granger's face was always as clear as day, and her eyes were always looking directly at him.

Draco wasn't even sure if it was what had actually happened anymore; whether Granger had actually looked at him during her torture with eyes pleading that he should help her. Regardless, when those dreams came to ruin yet another night's sleep, her eyes were always completely fixated on him, begging that he could lie just once more to the people around him to save her, the way he had saved her friends. And Draco had done nothing.

Looking back, he had a thousand and one plans that he could have put into effect, convinced that each one was more cunning and would help him in ensuring the safety of a girl who wanted to fight a war no more than he did. At the end of the day, though, he had done nothing, and her screams haunted him for it.

It was for that reason that he knew he deserved to be imprisoned, and he deserved to be put to work in helping to rebuild a school that he had, just a few months earlier, helped to destroy. But most of all, he deserved to have to do all of it, every humiliating minute of it, in front of the one person who's very existence shook him to the core.

That didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

At least when that oaf of a man was leading them he could just empty his mind and pretend he was doing a good dead for no other reason than because he wanted to, despite everyone in the wizarding world knowing that, had Draco been freed for his crimes, he would have gone straight to his enormously cold manor and stayed there until he began to mold.

The only solace he found in the days following his life as Lord Voldemort's housemate was the time in which he could simply dive into the work he was doing and shut off his mind, which would otherwise play an endless loop of screams and pleading set against a backdrop of fire and blood.

Now, faced with a new warden in the form of one of his enemies, his mind would not shut back off. As he watched across the lawn while she conversed with Theodore Nott, he saw nothing but her body, writhing on the floor of his drawing room, and heard nothing but her pleas for help.

Soon, it was time for lunch, which was by far Draco's least favorite part of the day. He needed the physical labor to occupy his mind or he felt like he would lose it. It was bad enough how much time he spent in his cell in Azkaban, staring at the walls and reminiscing without having to take a break in the middle of the work that had come to be therapeutic to him.

Not to mention the entire act of allowing a group of prisoners a break was a complete farce to him. They all walked over to the shade by the Forbidden Forest and sat together, like a group of little kids on a field trip, eating the lunch that had been prepared for them and sitting in their cliques. Draco had no interest in making friends with his fellow prisoners, so despite Blaise and Theo's attempts to get him to join in on all the gang fun, he usually spent his break sitting as far from everyone else as was allowed, ignoring the food offered to them and waiting for the sweet bliss of manual labor to once again take over his mind and body.

As he sat and ruminated over what was quickly becoming one of the worst days since his arrest, he looked over to the farthest side of the field, to where Granger was sitting and talking to that nitwit Longbottom. Draco had seen Longbottom very few times since he had begun his stint on the chain gang, but knew that now that Granger had decided to go all "I am woman, hear me roar" in taking over the crew, he would probably be seeing a lot more of him. What a bloody joy.

Granger was facing away from him as she chatted amiably with Longbottom, probably having to endure a fascinating story about his latest attempts to slobber all over that Abbott bint. She had, for the most part, stayed toward the opposite side of the gang after taking over, as she seemed to be nervous about those ridiculous excuses for wands that had been given to the "best behaviors." Might as well have just given them sticks to hit each other with for all the good they could do.

Draco prayed to Merlin and Morgana and any deity that might exist that her worries got the best of her and she remained on the far side of the group, far away from him. It was irrational to believe that he might never have to interact with her now that she had taken over, but Draco was not prepared for what might happen if she ended up near him.

Would she expect him to say something? Maybe expect that they would all want to be play mates like Theo and joke around as though they weren't going to be shipped back to a jail cell at the end of the day? Some of the other prisoners might have been able to do so, choosing to accept their punishment and move on, but Draco was not one of them.

And he found that his mental processes had led him right back to where he began. He deserved this sentence, that was very much true, but it wasn't enough. He deserved so much worse. He deserved to be locked away 24/7, with no chance to see the sun or feel the wind on his face. He deserved to be torn apart by every possible torture there was to make up for the atrocities that he had seen and not stopped.

He had walked into a court room shortly after the war ready to face the dementors. His soul might not have been in the best shape, but he deserved to have it stripped of him, torn from his body the way he had watched the life be torn from so many. Draco had been denied what he deserved; to give some family somewhere the peace of knowing that one of them men who had allowed their loved one to die had met an even worse fate.

He had been denied the chance the die. And all because Hermione Granger and the Golden bloody Trio couldn't just leave him to pay his price.

As Granger finally turned from Longbottom and met his gaze, he tried to convey in one look how much he despised her for doing this to him. Draco deserved to pay for his crimes, he had every intention of doing so, and he was going to make sure that it was Granger who did the deed.


	7. Chapter 7

It had been two weeks.

Two exhausting, painstaking, glorious weeks.

Hermione felt as though she had never been so tired or fulfilled as she had been in the past fortnight working at Hogwarts. Her days were filled with work that ranged from back-breaking to leisurely and her nights were filled with dreamless sleep, as the work left her brain too tired to conjure up the usual sounds of screams and scent of blood.

She had never felt so accomplished and independent in her life, and spent a good majority of her time brainstorming ideas on how to repay George for what seemed like life-saving advice.

Her first few days amongst the prisoners had been a bit touch and go as she tried to lord over men, some of whom were twice her size, who saw her as nothing more than dirt. She had hoped more of the workers would be like Theo, who was always up for an amiable conversation, but the majority of the laborers were not on the chain gang because they were related to Death Eaters.

None of the workers had killed (or at least, they hadn't been caught). Kingsley would never have let murderers out of their cells no matter how much help was needed at Hogwarts; but they had tortured, planned, and run rampant with those who had, and they were more than offended that the person left in charge of them was the very kind of person they had wanted exterminated: muggle-borns.

Hermione had expected the backlash. She had enough common sense to know that the stares she got on her first day and in the days since were not those of admiration, but of disgust. However, she wasn't called the brightest witch of her age for nothing, and she was ready to prove her prowess with a wand the second one of the prisoners stepped out of line.

The moment came three days into her new assignment. Hermione had skipped breakfast that morning to get an early start with her team, and was a little bit more than grumpy after she was kept up all night by Peeves doing an impression of Celestina Warbeck directly outside her quarters.

It had rained the night before and the area in which the team was working was slippery. Hermione had resigned herself to simply watching over the team, not wanting to overwork herself when she was so very tired. She was standing on a slight incline, attempting to keep everyone in her sight line when her roaming eyes locked onto those of the walking ghost that was Draco Malfoy.

She had taken to watching over Malfoy particularly closely since she had seen his furious look in her direction on her first say, although this was the first time they had made eye contact since. The ire in his eyes caught her so off guard that she took a quick step back, losing her balance on the loose soil and landing hard in a small mud puddle behind her. After expelling a few choice curse words, Hermione pulled her wand out of her pocket with the intention of removing the mud that now covered the entire bottom half of her body and most of her arms. Before she could speak the incantation, however, a prisoner whose name she didn't know let out a cackle, pointing in her direction and yelling, "Too bad magic can't clean your blood as effectively, eh?" The stinging hex Hermione had hurled at him was so intense she had to summon Hagrid to take the prisoner to the hospital wing … his groin was much too swollen for him to walk on his own.

Hermione had faced quite a dressing down from McGonagall when she learned what had happened to the prisoner. While she agreed the man had been out of line, she couldn't believe that the young woman who had fought so hard for the rights of these men would be the first to attempt harming them.

She had spent the rest of that evening brooding in her room. It was total hypocrisy for her to have injured a prisoner when she had lost her mind in front of the Minister of Magic attempting to defend their rights. She resolved herself to apologize to the prisoner the next day, and ensure the others that she would not let her temper get the best of her again.

When she got out on the field the next day, however, her plan changed. While previously the prisoners had talked and loitered at times when they thought she wasn't looking, they now kept their heads down, getting more work done in that one day than in all the time she had been their leader. When she realized the change in her men, she wandered in Theo's direction, hoping he could give her some insight into the change.

"Their bloody scared of you!" he had laughed, before lowering his voice to a whisper. "And for good reason, too. Stubbins needed about four different potions to get that swelling down."

The man Theo had referred to as Stubbins was working the farthest from her spot and, interestingly enough, seemed to remain that way through the say no matter where Hermione stood on the field. Hermione justified his fear of her by saying that if it would get the school open sooner, her hex was absolutely worth it.

Yet, there was still the issue of Draco Malfoy. She had no idea what she had done to make him so angry with her, and when she mentioned her worries to Theo, it was the familiar boy next to him who answered her.

"He's like that with everyone," said Blaise Zabini, speaking with her for the first time. "He won't to talk to anyone, he barely eats, and when he pays any attention to anyone he just stares."

Hermione, who was temporarily taken aback by Zabini's sudden decision to get chatty, could see a hint of fear in his dark eyes.

"Are you worried about him?" she asked, hoping she wasn't pushing the boundaries of a non-existent relationship.

"He's my best mate," Zabini replied, his eyes unconsciously finding Malfoy's head a short distance away. "I don't know what happened to him towards the end of …well … everything, but he was never like this. Not much I can do about it from a cell, though."

Hermione felt a pang of guilt as she thought about these men, boys really, some younger than her, whose only time to interact with others was a few hours a day during which they slaved away in the sun. She suddenly understood Theo's and Blaise's desire to talk to her; besides the other inmates, they had no opportunity to communicate with anyone at all. She made a mental note to look into that as soon as possible.

Needless to say, the past two weeks had been non-stop for Hermione, and she couldn't be happier. As she strolled out to the west side of the castle, where her team would be removing debris that day, she decided that she was going to make at least some headway with Malfoy before the day was out.

By lunchtime, her plan seemed like a bust. Every time she drifted in Malfoy's general direction, he would shadow her, almost like he was purposefully leaving space between them.

She was getting very frustrated not only by Malfoy's evasiveness, but by Theo and Blaise, as well, who took every chance they could to laugh at her as she danced around the group.

When she saw that the sun was starting to fall in the sky, she realized if she didn't make a move soon, she would miss her opportunity and have to wait until tomorrow to confront him. She found her opening when Malfoy knelt down with another prisoner, attempting to leverage out a particularly stubborn piece of stone. For the first time all day, Malfoy had his back turned to her. She was a little disappointed in him, he should have known better.

When she was within a few feet of Malfoy and his working buddy, she subconsciously began treading more lightly on the ground, expecting Malfoy to hear her coming and run in the opposite direction. What happened instead was that she tripped on her own feet, and landed on his back.

Malfoy's face missing the piece of stone he was working on by inches, although it made quite an impact on the ground when he couldn't get his hands up in time to protect himself. As soon as Hermione realized what had happened, she rushed over to Malfoy, grabbing his arm to help him up. He was having none of it, however, as he ripped his arm from her grasp to wipe the dirt off of his face.

"I'm so sorry, Malfoy!" she screeched, sounding more like a distressed owl than a person. "I-I tripped and then … well … you were there and-and … "

She couldn't seem to get the words out. She suddenly found herself under that intense glare of his, although being this close to it made it feel enormously different.

She could see the flecks of blue in his grey eyes, make out the lines of his eyelashes, but other than the anger she had been faced with everyday, there was no emotion to be seen there.

It scared her. Something was severely wrong with this man, no boy, who stood before her. He was broken beyond recognition, to the point where it seemed as though anger was the only emotion he was capable of feeling. This was a boy who was indoctrinated by his family and forced to do horrible things in his mission to keep them safe. She felt like she was looking at the human incarnation of a house elf, a frightened being who knew no better than to serve who he was told to serve.

In that moment, as she stared into his eyes, she made a terrible mistake. She looked at Malfoy and assumed that his anger was the way he masked his pain, and that he just needed someone to break through, someone to prove to him that not everyone wanted him working on a chain gang and living in a cell. She thought he just wanted help, and in doing so, she underestimated him.

She never saw his arm grab her wand from her pocket.

Everything that happened next was a blur. Suddenly she was being spun around, her own wand being held to her temple as Malfoy began shouting to the other prisoners.

"WHO IS READY FOR A SHOW?" His voice was scratchy from being silent for so long, but the workers heard him fine and suddenly rushed over, although whether or not the intended to help her or Malfoy, Hermione didn't know.

She was trying to wiggle from his grasp, but he had a bruising hold on her shoulder and the point of her wand was pressing so hard into the side of her head, that she wondered how she wasn't bleeding.

"Draco, mate, no," Hermione heard a familiar voice say to her left. As she tilted her head slightly she could see Blaise and Theo standing together with matching visages of shock.

"Stay out of this Blaise," Malfoy retorted quickly, but Hermione felt as though his grasp on her had slightly lessened; she had a bit more room to move about, and she could see the side of Malfoy's face.

His sharp profile was pointed towards his two friends as they tried to reason with him. Hermione barely heard the conversation as her eyes were fixated on the hand which was holding her wand. She felt as though she might be able to grab it from him if she moved quickly enough. But it felt wrong. Malfoy was smart; he wouldn't make it so easy for her to escape from him moments after he attacked her.  
>She had to try, though. Hermione quickly lunged to the side, grasping for Malfoy's wrist as he realized what was happening. But he was just too strong. He threw her to the ground, making sure to keep Hermione's wand trained on her. Hermione go up to dodge left, only to see a green flash of light erupt a few feet in front of her. She dropped to the ground in shock; Malfoy was trying to kill her.<p>

But, wait, was he really? He was the only one of the field with a wand that did anything more that lift heavy rocks. The other prisoners seemed too dumbstruck by what was happening to attempt disarming him, not that they would have much of a change with only their bare hands. He was unopposed, had a clear shot, and had missed Hermione by almost two yards. She couldn't help but to think that he had missed her on purpose.

As she scrambled back to her feet, she noticed that Malfoy had used her wand to unlock his chains, and he was pursuing her across the grounds. Realizing that none of the other workers were at risk, Hermione ran for it. By the time she reached the lake, she had a stitch in her side and tears running down her face.

She had failed. She had run up and down the halls of Hogwarts screaming like a banshee that she could take care of the prisoners by herself, and with one lapse of judgment, she had proven herself wrong.

Once she reached the edge of the lake, Hermione turned around to face Malfoy. Her decision was made, if she was going to die, she wasn't going to be hit by a spell while she was running away. She was Hermione Bloody Granger, and she was not a coward.

As Malfoy approached she saw that his eyes had changed in the few minutes since she had first fallen on him; they were almost relaxed. As though Hermione couldn't get any more confused, when he approached her, he tossed her wand on the ground by her feet.

Hermione looked frantically between the wand and the enigma of a man standing in front of her, trying to figure out what the trick was here. Did he someone switch her wand with a fake one? No, that was impossible. Her wand was intricately carved, there was no way he could find one so convincing, not to mention he would have had to plan this bizarre turn of events.

"Pick it up, Granger," Malfoy growled as he switched his weight between his feet. He was nervous, she could tell, but she had no idea why. She'd never felt so confused in her life.

"What are you doing?" she asked, trying to keep her voice level. Her mind was racing and her hand itched for the comforting presence of her wand, but she needed to know what he was doing.

"Just pick up the bloody wand, Granger! I just attacked you! I tried to kill you! Surely you must know how to protect yourself," he replied, although his voice was losing some of its resolve. That was when Hermione realized he wasn't nervous at all, he was scared.

"Why did you miss me on purpose?" she asked without thinking. "Why would you give me my wand back? Malfoy … Draco …"

Hermione's use of his name seemed to make him snap.

"JUST KILL ME DAMMIT!"

Hermione felt like she had stopped breathing. He had put on a show for the other prisoners, making them watch as he threw a killing curse far enough from her so that he wouldn't mistakenly kill her. Then, he had chased her away and given her an opening. The prisoners couldn't follow them, not in those chains, and there were no other workers on the grounds. Draco Malfoy had worked out the perfect set up for his own murder.

Too bad he could never have predicted the reaction of the one he expected to relish in the death blow.

Hermione sank to her knees and cried. She cried because she hadn't in two weeks, and sometimes, when terrible things like war and death happen, you just need to cry. She cried because she knew she was in over her head with the prisoners, because she didn't know how she could possibly admit that to the people she had assured of her prowess; but most of all, she cried because Malfoy was standing in front of her asking to die. The little boy who had once relished in taunts and barbs and Quidditch rivalries had been left an empty shell, one that had plotted out its own demise.

Hermione barely heard the commotion that followed. It seemed as though someone had sent for help following Malfoy's escape, and soon, dozens of people were streaming out of the castle towards the lake where Malfoy and Hermione were clearly visible.

No one bothered to question why Malfoy wasn't putting up a fight, but in the quickly moment when Hermione looked up, she locked eyes with him once again. His eyes were no longer angry or relieved, there was nothing there. It was like her first day all over again. Whatever hope Malfoy had found in his plot to die, it was completely dashed now.

Hermione just continued to cry; she cried for the boy who had no choice.


End file.
